Dèjá vu
by Light1
Summary: Kain's habit of time-travel can have devastating implications. Can Vorador cope with the idea of two Kain's?


**Dèjá vu **

Disclaimer: Legacy of Kain belongs to Edios and Crystal dynamics, they are not me. I am making £0.00 out of this fic, it is written purely because I have a burning need to create.

Rating: PG-13

Part: One of One

Set: During Blood Omen one, after the events of SR2

Authoress note: Implications of Time Travel

**Dèjá vu **

{Vorador}

He had never understood time travel. The fact that a person could be born in one year but still be influencing events centuries in there own past confused and worried him. He disliked the risks involved. How much power those individuals could have and how much damage they could do frightened him. But he was still housing one such individual. He had been there that day when the blue '_saviour'_ had emerged from the Keep that had at the time housed Moebius and his rotten little cut-throat army. He had watched as the creature wandered into the pillars glade where another was waiting for him. In truth they had both frightened Vorador. The ragged blue creature had seemed confused but clearly wielded enough power to be dangerous, and his anger flew off him in waves, this gave Vorador concern as angry creatures with large amounts of strength usually did things that could never be undone. But it was the other that had given Vorador true reason to worry. He had smelt vampiric and appeared evolved, this was no weak and feeble fledgling, yet Vorador had never seen him before now and this confused him. He had thought himself the only surviving vampire of strength. Where had this one come from?

He had listened to them speak and had understood points of the conversation but not all the references, the vampire whom the ragged blue creature had called Kain, had spoken confusingly about what was happening now and what could happen in the future. Vorador had jerked at the vampires name, he had heard it somewhere before but for the moment his memory eluded him. Kain's words were twisted and shrouded in metaphor so much so that Vorador had a hard time following and the events he spoke were happening as he spoke, how could he know these things. How could he know that the guardians were collapsing under their own weight? Vorador was unsure exactly what was happening but after centuries spent with Janos and the ancient vampires he knew what the pillars magic felt like enough to recognise when something drastic was going wrong. Kain continued to speak even as the pillars blackened around him and had sounded somewhat unstable, but his voice was far to calm, too controlled for someone who was truly deranged. Vorador had continued to listen until the vampire had vanished and the ragged creature that he learned was called Raziel moved away. He watched confused as the creature held up his arms and vanished from sight and all other senses. He called his Ravens and sent them out, he wanted to find him.

He was unsure why he had continued to follow the creature, it was strange but he felt drawn to these two. There was something achingly familure about the vampire and blue creature, something he could not quiet put his finger on and it had given him an odd feeling. He had eventually spoken to the creature outside of the ancient's temple and had learned very little, but had retreated despite this, his own anger flaring up. During the conversation he had remembered where he had heard the name Kain before. Vampires meddling in the affairs of men, he remembered the tale and how it had sparked Moebius' little genocide. It angered him deeply but confused him even more so, the vampire in the history tale had been named Kain, and he had been depicted in the tale as a fledgling. Was it possible that that Kain and the one talking at the pillars were the same? It was unlikely though, despite the circumstances not enough time had yet passed for the fledgling in the tale to have matured the way the vampire in the glade had clearly been. No doubt that fledgling was dead. He had let the thought drop for ten years but then found his curiosity peak once again when he had overheard Moebius' men speak of the Soul Reaver, he had known Moebius had the blade in the Keep, but had never really thought of it, for there had been tales of moving the blade to Avernus, and there had been tales of the blade disappearing entirely. But these men spoke of the broken blade being mended. He had taken flight at those words and had infiltrated the Keep with ease. It was never hard to steal inside even when the Serefan were in power but now it was child's play.

The cathedral was large but not particularly impressive, not to one who had seen the stone work of the ancient vampires. He had moved silently through the empty cathedral and had entered the tomb of William the Just and indeed the blade had been restored. But the tomb was cracked down the centre, it looked as if a god had ripped it in two and the mortals had pushed it back together. The blade rested atop the fractured stone and it was indeed whole once more. Vorador had paused, his hand lingering over the relic; there was a scent on the blade. A scent he not smelt for years, a scent that he had caught once in the glade of the pillars when two creatures had spoken and argued. He had thought on it for sometime, almost getting spotted in the Keep because of his confusion. But after a few days he had no new answers, and only the memory kept replying in his mind. He had been so certain that the blue creature had been responsible for the pillars decay even despite the words of the vampire who had spoken of the insane guardians being the cause. He had even named himself as a guardian. But Vorador had still been so sure that it was the demonic looking creature that had been the true cause, something about him had stank of betrayal and of the vampires ancient enemy. But there had been no sign of either him or the vampire in so many years. So he had allowed the thought to slip from his mind once more, it was an easy thing to do and twenty years passed silently and he never found reason to think on what he had seen in the glade or the cathedral until this day. His home had been attacked, but not by Moebius, guardian of time and leader of the 'purge' but rather by a lone fledgling vampire. The fledgling had slaughtered half of his household before finally stopping when confronted by Vorador. They had spoken and Vorador had learned this one was also called Kain. But that had not been what had made the elder tense, what had frightened him more than he would ever admit was the scent. It was the exact same scent as the scent in the glade and in the cathedral.

He had made excuses at first. It was his mind, his imagination, this could not be real, it was all too confusing. But it was real, for while in Williams's tomb he had seen the glass window, he recognised the fledgling physically, he had never seen one like this before, so pail he looked to be cut from alabaster. Then there was the scent, he recognised it as the one from the glade and the weak one that had been left on the blade in the cathedral. It was the same creature. The murderer of William, the vampire in the glade and the fledgling in front of him were all one and the same. There was only one way this could be possible, time-travel. This creature knew the magic's of Moebius, part of the scent on him gave him away as a pillar guardian but he could not be guardian to the time pillar as Moebius still took breath, no this one had to be another and the only logical choice was balance for Ariel had been the only death in so long. Standing in front of him now was the hub of the circle, dear god. Vorador swallowed hard and stood, the fledgling Kain raised an eyebrow at him, apparently innocent of Vorador's thoughts and the knowledge of what he would one day become. Vorador had never truly wanted to meddle in the affairs of time-travel and those who know its secrets, for the slightest thing, the smallest wrong move could bring the future down in ruins around his feet. But so many had died in the genocide, so many that he had cared for had fallen to Moebius' mob and the creature in front of him was the apparent cause. With that thought he felt his talons tense and had to concentrate to stop himself from leaning across the table and tearing the fledgling's throat out. Anything to stop what had happened.

But he could not kill this one, for he had seen what he would do when older, had seen how the fledgling when older had tried to reason with the blue creature, the creature that had made Vorador think of old paintings, of head-crests and battles. Perhaps the ancients were right, perhaps their saviour had come at last, as had another, the ancient enemy had been prophesised to raise a champion of there own. What if this one blinking at him now with a rather strange and confused expression on his face was all that stood between Nosgoth and the ancient enemy and therefore destruction. Vorador bit the inside of his mouth in frustration, why had Janos not told him more? Why had he left him so defenceless against all of this? Why had he only told him scraps? Kain coughed quietly and Vorador glanced at him, the fledgling was frowning at him a perplexed expression lingering on his features. Vorador shook himself, this one was so young but already he had proven himself strong and unusually attuned to the magic's in their land. So no Vorador would not risk killing the one who had a chance at saving them all even if he didn't really believe that the ancients were right or that this fledgling stood much of a chance of doing anything, the young rarely survived these days. But still he would do something. He disliked meddling in the affairs of time travel but he would risk it for this, and so he warned the fledgling Kain,

"Do not meddle in the affairs of men." He could only hope it would be enough.

It had not been enough.

Something had gone wrong. It had to have, for nothing had changed. Moebius still patrolled the land and he was getting closer. Vorador had ordered those of his fledglings that were left to run, there were not many of them now, not since Kain's arrival and desecration of his brood. But those who had survived he ordered to flee. But he had remained, he could not leave, would not leave his mansion, his home, his sire. It was probably foolish to remain to protect someone who had died centuries ago, but in his eyes Janos was not truly dead for the heart still beat somewhere. His last futile attempt to retrieve it by sending their 'saviour' to Avernus also seemed to have failed, but despite all his plans crumbling around him he found he could not let go of that last desperate shred of hope. Somehow something would come right in all of this, but what exactly he did not know. How was he supposed to know if his plan with the fledgling Kain had worked? He snorted at the use of the word '_plan'_, for there had been no plan, at least not a real one, what he had done had been an act of desperation. A panicked act that had not been thought through; but still, it could have worked, the fledgling could have listened to him, despite his arrogance and rather rude disposition he had seemed confused and open to suggestion. Maybe the child had listened but had simply not had enough time yet, but that made no sense either the event he had tried to change happened years ago. Strange that the fledgling responsible had only been born weeks ago. He suddenly felt that he shouldn't have said anything, for how could one so young manage anything on that scale. Usually vampires were frail, fragile and dependent on their sires for a good few years, this one claimed to be but weeks old, yet he was independent and ferocious. A dangerous creature indeed.

This whole situation was impossible. He left the tomb, bidding goodbye to his maker, praying that they would both be safe. Vorador had always felt foolish at the thought of preying before now, even during the vampire war he had not prayed for his winged friend to return from battle safely, he had simply known he would. Nor had he prayed when Janos' teeth broke the thin skin on his throat, he had simply trusted Janos not to let him die despite the odds and the risk they were taking. He had not preyed when he had found his Sire's corpse in the ruins of the aerie and he had not preyed when he sent a half wild fledgling out to perform the impossible. But now he prayed, preyed with all the energy he could muster that Janos would not be found by anyone but himself. The walk back to the mansion through the gardens was surprisingly calming; there were no sounds of men, nothing to disturb the peace of the forest. But the smell of them was thick in the air, they were here, they were just silent, hoping to surprise him. Vorador shook his head, confusing thoughts on the manipulation of time aside everything was relatively simple now. He would live or he would die, if he died then Janos would be at the mercy of these animals, if he lived he would continue to slowly lose himself to depression, what little hope he still held would fade and flicker before dying and he would be left a shell of what he once was. Empty and dismissed by the world.

Things had to change. Silently Vorador swore to himself, if he lived through this then drastic action would be taken. He would change things somehow. Perhaps the fledgling would survive along with him and he could spend some time looking into the possibility that the ancient's prophecy could one day be fulfilled. There was a horrendous crash from the front of the mansion and Vorador sighed, he wondered if they found it as easy to get in here as he had when breaking into the Keep after finding Janos in the ruined Aerie. They were inside the mansion now, he could hear them all, hundreds of them, and with the knowledge that there were so many of them and only one of he, he realised that he would not survive this battle. That with his death, the knowledge of the ancient vampires would die with him. He knew little of the prophecy, only dribs and drabs Janos had spoken of, usually in the small hours of the morning before the dawn came, but it could have been enough for the fledgling, heaven knows the blue skinned wreck of a saviour had sought him out for it. Vorador sighed louder this time listening as footsteps drew closer. The blue skinned one could belong to either side, vampire or the ancient enemy, Vorador only hoped he had given his limited knowledge to the right one, hoped that by speaking of it to the blue skinned one and not the fledgling he had not doomed them. The footsteps were earth shattering now to his hearing and he winced as the door shattered, wood splintering and falling to the floor as the mortals came in.

His plan hadn't worked. He knew he could not win, but still he fought; many fell before him but not enough, it could never be enough. When he felt the orb move closer to him, close enough to make his heart burn he had let out a cry, it couldn't come yet, not so soon, he hadn't killed enough of them yet. He could never kill enough of them. Moebius had spoken to him, he was sure of it but the words had not truly registered, they didn't matter anyway. He had failed, failed his children who would no doubt be hunted down within the week, he had failed himself, allowing himself to fall so easily and he had failed Janos, Janos who slumbered in the tomb at the foot of the gardens. No doubt they would find him and no doubt his final resting place would be a pyre in the Serefan stronghold. Once the body was burned there would be no hope of returning the heart. He did not truly watch or understand the trip north from the forest, nor did he see the screaming crowds of the city. There was little in the way of fear, there was little in the way of happiness or sadness. He felt numb when he allowed them to move him onto the raised platform. He did not feel the blade; it was too sudden and fast for even his evolved nervous system to register.

Surprisingly he opened his eyes, surprising because he hadn't ever expected to see anything ever again. It took him a while to get his eyes to focus but after some concentration he managed it and found himself almost nose to nose with another. The eyes inches away from his own were bright and strange; ice cold blue with flicks of gold, the gold was slowly taking over the blue. They were fledgling eyes, and they looked smug. Vorador growled and the eyes moved back revealing the one in front of him to the older vampire's blurred vision. It was him, the fledgling Kain, he looked even worse now than when Vorador had first seen him, his armour gone, his clothing torn and covered in blood and mud. His skin which Vorador was sure had been white at some point was now purple in places from bruising, deep cuts littered his torso and arms, and dirt covered him completely. But he looked satisfied and rather smug.

"Don't move." The fledgling spoke, the sound hurting Vorador's head, "this is the first time I've actually managed to feed you without you forcing it back on me and I would rather you kept what I gave." Vorador nodded, and instantly felt ill for doing so, he had seen head injuries before in both humans and vampires and understood that movement was probably a bad thing. Although he doubted any of the injuries he had seen were outright decapitation. How was he still alive? With a sigh he tried to focus on himself, testing his limb making sure everything moved, he was sore and stiff all over but everything from his talons to his feet worked and he let out a sigh of relief, he would have hated o have been lamed in the process but all in all at least he would have been alive. His mouth tasted strange to him, warm and flavoured with something he had not tasted in a long time. He remembered the fledgling stating that he had fed him and almost smiled. The blood in his mouth had left an aftertaste that was not unfamiliar, it was a flavour that was quiet similar to Janos.

"Janos!" Vorador blurted louder than he had intended, making the young vampire leap nearly a foot into the air and send him a look that would have killed him had such a thing been possible. Vorador swallowed and concentrating lowered his voice. "In the garden," he breathed "there is a tomb."

"I thought it rather elaborate for a grounds keepers hut." The fledgling Kain smirked, it took Vorador a moment to realise that the fledgling was attempting humour. He hissed in annoyance and went to rise, but did not get far, clawed hands reached him only a moment after the sickness, stopping him from falling from the bed as he lost the blood that had been fed to him while he slept.

"I told you not to move." The fledgling grumbled, shaking blood from his boot, he pushed Vorador back none to gently and stalked across the room grumbling to himself, Vorador swallowed hard and tried to stop the room from spinning. It took him a moment but he managed to open his eyes and focus on the fledgling across the room, he frowned for a moment before he realised that the ashen haired vampire had cut himself and was bleeding into a glass.

"Janos." Vorador managed to breathe

"You said that before." Kain glared and stalked back over to the older vampire "here fed yourself this time." The thought of blood made Vorador's stomach roll unpleasantly and his head spin, but at the same time his body was screaming for sustenance, to heal itself.

"In the tomb." Vorador breathed his throat raw "a body."

"That's what tombs are usually used for." Kain stood once again and stretched, wincing as his own wounds cried out at him. Vorador briefly wondered why the fledgling wasn't healing, but then he was terribly young and had apparently been feeding him from his own veins. "Holding corpses," the fledgling sighed and sat back down obviously tired "but not this one, it held a lot of candles and a lot of ornaments but no body."

"No body." Vorador sighed and almost dropped the goblet in his claws, with a grunt of irritation the fledgling took it from him and sat it on an upturned box which was apparently serving as a bedside table. "Then he's gone."

"Corpses rarely walk away." Kain yawned and settled his chin in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His hair moved to hang in front of his face, matted with blood and dirt. He looked a sight, although Vorador doubted he looked much better. "The ones littering the mansion surely haven't." so the fledgling had explored while waiting for him to wake, Vorador noted this with only mild concern. Janos was gone, of course it was possible that Kain was mistaken but then he had described the tomb.

"I have failed." Vorador breathed. He had failed, but he also remembered his promise to himself, his promise to do something to change the balance of the world, glancing at the beaten and broken but still smirking fledgling in front of him he was beginning to see how it could be done.

"I have failed." He repeated "but you, Kain, You will not."

**End**


End file.
